In a Tuxedo Shop
by emedealer
Summary: Sherlock brings Molly along to help him pick worthy attire for John and Mary's wedding.


_A/N: This just sort of... happened._

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><p>Molly held up a light colored suit jacket, barely attempting to mask the irritation at practically being swept from the lab to accompany a certain consulting detective to a tuxedo shop. There was some sympathy though, seeing as he was too anxious about the wedding to notice.<p>

"No." He muttered, glancing over his shoulder at the jacket. He had been preoccupied with his cufflinks, facing the massive mirror in his dress shirt and trousers outside the dressing room.

"What's wrong with this one?"

"It's grey."

"And?"

"It has to be black." He stated, a thread of annoyance in his voice as well.

"We've tried black."

"We haven't." He said.

"Yes, we have- look!" She picked a black jacket by the hanger.

"That's a light charcoal at best." He sighed, facing the mirror again.

"It's black." She dropped the article beside herself on the sofa.

"Hardly."

He pulled on a darker suit jacket, which reminded molly of the type that one would wear to lead an orchestra, what with the tail and all. Sherlock fastened the front button with a look of utter satisfaction for Molly, who could only roll her eyes, even if he admittedly did look better in this one.

"The tie, please."

"What?"

"In the coat." He nodded to the great heap of fabric that was draped over the sofa.

Despite feeling utterly disinclined to do so, Molly pulled the clumped ball of linin from the front pocket.

"Lilac." She observed, carefully smoothing out the wrinkles of it with her fingers.

"Mary chose the color scheme."

"I imagine John didn't have much of a say."

"No." He agreed, the corner of his mouth turning upwards.

"What are the colors, then?"

"Yellow and purple- lilac." He corrected himself.

"It sounds lovely."

His gaze was rested on her when she looked up to meet it, and it remained there, seeking something.

"Yellow would suite you, Molly." He finally said.

Admittedly, there was a spark of happiness in knowing that his judgment of her had been a positive one.

"Not lilac then." She countered, almost grinning at the way his brow shot upwards at the way she'd interpreted the compliment.

"The bridesmaids are wearing it."

"Ah."

"I've been helping Mary with the planning." He admitted.

"Have you?"

"Yes." He looked rather proud. "Would you mind?" He asked, staring expectantly.

She wondered if she was suddenly being an intrusion, or if she was being told to leave.

"Mind what?"

"I'm… afraid that I have a lack of experience wearing ties. Mrs. Hudson is usually the one to help me if needs must."

"Help you… "

"With the tie, Molly."

"Am I hearing that Sherlock Holmes doesn't know how to tie a tie?" She grinned.

"I've been able to keep John in the dark about it thus far. I'd like it to stay that way."

"Come here" She sighed.

His countenance was a bit awkward when he came to stand in front of her, his arms rather stiff at his sides. She felt rather caught under his stare though, and soon remembered that he was waiting for her.

"Sorry. You'll have to…" She trailed off, gesturing to the jacket that he'd put on moments ago.

"Right, of course." Remembrance flashed over his expression, and immediately he was shrugging out of the garment, folding it over his forearm.

She wouldn't deny that he looked maddeningly handsome in the white dress shirt, but immediately forced the thought aside.

"I've never seen you wear one." She murmured absentmindedly as she lifted the shirt collar to fix the tie around his neck.

"I find them tedious." He said.

She was confused at the steadiness of her fingers, and the calm that came so easily. It felt unfamiliar to their last meeting, when he had taken her to solve crimes.

"Molly?"

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"As you know, the wedding will be upon us fairly quickly, and with my recent promotion to the position of best man, I find that it's my duty to provide John with-"

"With a stag night." She barely bit back a grin at the sudden mental image.

"Exactly." He softly affirmed, a small crinkle between his eyebrows at the humor that she'd found.

"You want me to help you, then?"

"I do."

"What do you need?"

"I need you to help me calculate John's alcohol intake in relation to the distance between the pubs we go to that night."

"I'm not going drinking with you and John." She said, firmly meeting his gaze.

"Of course not."

"Good."

The text alert tone from the sofa brought her away, her hands disappearing from the tie as they had lingered after she had finished. A brief glance at the name on the screen reminded her of a neglected lunch date and a likely irritated fiancé.

"Tom." She said, quickly sending an apologetic answer to the text, as she'd lately been forgetful of those.

Sherlock nodded, his expression remaining stagnant as he turned to admire her work in the mirror.

"I should get going."

"If you must."

He quite ignored after that, and so she pulled on her own coat, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

"Sherlock?"

He hummed in response.

"I wanted to thank you."

"What for?"

"The other day. Solving crimes, it was nice."

"It was." He granted, looking to see her off.

"To be honest I thought that was why you needed me during my lunch break." She admitted.

"If you remember, we agreed that you didn't want to do that again." Although his expression was mock-serious, there was a certain finality to his words.

"It's not that I don't want to," She didn't meet his eyes, as they were cast down to the ring on her finger. "I just… can't."

"I thought not." He said, his gaze barely flicking to the ring as well.

She mustered a parting smile at that, and soon left him alone in the shop.


End file.
